


Bloodfeather

by Nairae



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Build, Slow Burn, i'll add more later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:43:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5944096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nairae/pseuds/Nairae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lydia is a bit more intuitive than people give her credit for. After all, war never changes."<br/>----------------------------------<br/>Slow burn/slow build with Hancock. Tags and description will  change as time goes on. Spoilers for whole game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

  
Lydia couldn't help it at this point, she just laughed. Staring at the horizon on the top of the hill she just scaled, she saw the ruins of Boston, and laughed. “This is insane, oh my god,” she breathed as the laughter died down. Her new found dog let out a soft whimper and nuzzled her hand, comforting her as best he could. Lydia softly pat his head. “It's okay boy,” she said unconvincingly, and stared forward in silence.  


* * *

  
  
When Lydia had awoken from the cyrochamber, it was like she had just closed her eyes. Everything was cold, and she blinked, watching as a man murdered her husband and stole her infant from his arms. Then coldness again. Another blink and she was awake again, but this time alone. In her mind not even 10 minutes had passed from when the bombs fell. To claim it was disorientating is an understatement.  
  
Despite making her way out of the vault, through giant roaches and skeletons, Lydia was not really there. Her body was on autopilot while her mind had still separated itself, trying to make sense of it all. She stood atop of the vault elevator, looking at the land in stunned silence. She felt like she was floating, her legs made of noodles, and the feeling didn't get better when she found Codsworth at her destroyed home.  
  
“T-t-t-two hundred years…? W-w-what are you talking about?” Lydia stammered. Her stance was strong and capable, but her mind was still lost, only hearing bits and pieces of Codsworth's following explanation. The world was trashed, not dead, just…. dismantled. Small signs of life that proved time's passage were found around, and the words failed her. A small “Huh.” was all she managed outloud. Nate had insisted a Mr. Handy was going to be a great investment for their small family, and Lydia did not buy the durability the company claimed. Nate was persistent though, and she gave in, expecting to get an I-told-you-so in at some point in the near future. Well, he won that argument, she noted in her head. 2 centuries and nuclear annihilation and that robot is still running. ….Not that he was being useful, mind you. The clueless thing insisted she go to Concord, where “the people had only shot at him a few times”. If it really had been over two centuries in total anarchy, she knew likely the people were not friendly.  
  
Her suspicions were confirmed, of course. Standing outside the Red Rocket covered in mole rat blood splatter with her new companion, she heard the screams and guns shots echoing from the ruins in front of her. Lydia rested her hand on the pooch's head, and gave a small grateful smile. “Well, least I won't be entirely alone for now, god knows I could use someone around to ground me, huh boy?” She glanced back over at Concord, and started heading around it instead. She hoped she would find a smaller group of people to help her get her bearings and some information elsewhere.

* * *

  
  
Lydia and her dog headed south, and she was growing more and more grateful for her companion with each passing minute. She could handle herself well with a gun, Nate had made sure of that well before her military time had, but the dog's reactions to different creatures helped her feel out their danger levels rather quickly. He was a dog, but a smart, intuitive one. It also helped that he had a knack for finding stimpacs and chems in places she wouldn't have though to look. She could handle herself, but he taught her in the small ways he could, and that was not lost on her.  
  
Lydia and her companion made their way up to an old Drumlin Diner, and immediately found themselves with weapons pointed at them. “Easy there Vaultie, this doesn't involve you,” grunted a rough looking man. He was pale, and dirty, and rough around the edges, and a dark skinned woman stood behind him. Lydia was good with masking her feelings via body language. She planted her feet in the ground and showed a stern expression on her face, “It's going to involve me if you don't stop waving those guns in my face,” she said firmly with her hands in the air, to show she wasn't a threat. Do no harm, take no shit, she thought to herself waiting for a reaction. The man signaled to his friend, and they lowered their weapons. “Fair enough,” he said, with a level of respect that wasn't there before. “I'm just trying to get what is owed to me.”  
  
Lydia paused and quickly assessed the situation. It seemed to be a simple disagreement, just… with guns. Putting together context clues she assumed this wasn't exactly uncommon anymore. “What does she owe you, I might be able to talk some sense into her,” Lydia offered casually, lowering her hands to her hips. The man's eyes raised with an amused smirk.  
  
“What you a hired gun, Vaultie?” he chuckled. ”Trudy here owes me caps for the jet her boy took from me. Says she won't pay because he got himself addicted and it's poison. Ain't that right Trudy?”  
  
“Fuck you Wolfgang, you poison pusher!” the older woman named Trudy called out from the diner.  
  
“So the kid gets himself hooked on your product and it's your fault, then?” Lydia chuckled at the absurdity, “I'll talk to her.” She didn't wait for a response from Wolfgang, she just walked over to the diner and opened the door.  
  
“That fucker isn't getting my caps you hear me?” Trudy growled at her, narrowing her eyes.  
  
“Don't be ridiculous, did he force the jet into your adult son's mouth? No?” Nothing but silence as they glanced over at the young man, clutching his head and rocking in the corner. “It's not Wolfgang's fault your boy took too much, you owe him money fair and square. Just pay him and it's all over, no shooting involved.” Lydia reasoned, matter of factly. Trudy sighed.  
  
“Fuck… fine Wolfgang!” the woman yelled out of the window. “You'll get your fucking caps, but only if you stay the fuck away from my kid from now on!”  
  
“Shit, no problem, your son is broke as fuck anyways, clearly,” Wolfgang chuckled, lowering his weapon.  
  
Lydia and her dog waited outside while the exchange took place, after all was said and done, Wolfgang walked up to her and offered a cigarette. Lydia happily accepted, and took a nice long drag. “God I needed that,” she breathed quietly.  
  
Wolfgang chuckled and handed her a sack of caps, “Thanks for the help, Vaultie.”  
  
“I'm going to assume that you know I'm from a vault with that cute little nickname you've got going on,” Lydia joked, taking another hit from her lit cigarette. She had smoked before the war, much to her husband's dismay. She was thankful there still seemed to be enough around. “I don't want caps. I want information,” she said quietly, offering the bag back. Wolfgang didn't take it.  
  
“What kind of information?”  
  
“The basics, actually. I woke up a few hours ago and have no fucking clue what is going on, where anything is, or what these creatures are.”  


“You're going to need more than the Commonwealth crashcourse if you want to live out here fresh face,” Wolfgang chuckled, amused. “You even know how to use a gun? They don't teach that shit in the vaults.”  
  
“They had guns before the bombs fell, you know,” Lydia chided, in a that-is-really-obvious-way. Wolfgang turned to look at her, with a genuinely confused expression on his face. It was at that point his body guard walked up – Simone, he called her.  
  
“Alright, you can stop fucking around now. Just woke up? Before the bombs fell? The fuck you high on? I want some,” the woman questioned. It was at that point Lydia made the realization that her vault must have been different. Yeah, she hadn't known they were going to be frozen, but when she realized that's what went down she assumed every vault was the same. Apparently that wasn't the case.  
  
“I…. I was in a cryogenic stasis. We didn't live there, we went down and were frozen once as the bombs started falling. I woke up once and saw my kid getting kidnapped and my husband shot in his pod, then was put back under, until this morning. Somehow my fucking robot survived and told me it's been over 200 years,” Lydia paused. “I'm guessing by the expression on your faces the other vaults weren't the same, then.”  
  
“Well shit,” Wolfgang said, blankly. Simone was amused.  
  
“So basically you're a pre-war ghoul, just not a ghoul. That's fucked,” the bodyguard spoke lightheartedly. Lydia was surprised this wasn't surprising to them once as she realized she had to explain it.  
  
“...What is a ghoul?”  
  
Simone and Wolfgang looked at each, then at Lydia.  
  
“Alright Vaultie,” Simone said, wrapping her arm around Lydia's shoulder, “You got a lot to learn...”

* * *

  
Lydia camped out with them for the night, getting the “Commonwealth Crashcourse” as Wolfgang called it. A quick rundown of common enemies and their weaknesses… and which to run from, plus some directions on where to go to start looking for Shaun. In that department, Lydia didn't have much hope once as the reality of everything started setting in. For all she knew, Shaun could have been taken a week into being frozen, and over a century had passed since his death. She couldn't tell any sort of time while frozen, it felt like she blinked and it was over. It was disorientating to think about, and she kneaded her hands together while in thought.  
  
Simone and Wolfgang had argued about where to send her. Diamond City had a detective apparently, but he was a synth and the place was filled with bigots. Goodneighbor was the next biggest place, and it was the home of the freaks – a lot of ghouls, since apparently Diamond City kicked them all out years ago. Lydia's nose crinkled at this. Her decision was made quickly, Goodneighbor seemed like a better start. You get more information in dirty, relaxed places she knew from experience, and if this detective synth was cool or not, someone could tell her.  
  
Her and her faithful companion sat on top at the hill, overlooking Boston's ruins in silence. The laugher produced from shock had long faded, and the grief began to take hold. “I wondered how long that would take,” Lydia spoke with a wet bitterness, as tears welled up. She had long since dismissed the idea of this all being a dream, but it still hadn't begun to hit her until she saw the ruins in the distance.  
  
Gripping her 10 mm pistol, she closed her eye and inhaled deeply, breathing in the forsaken land soaked with blood and radiation.  
  
Lydia had no fucking idea what she was going to do.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and you meet everyone's favorite ghoul, yaaaaaaayyy
> 
> btw none of these beta'd or anything, I'm posting them as I finished them and I'll probably put these through some heavy editing at some point. also updates won't always be so frequent, me, my spouse, and our kid are trapped in the house with the flu currently, weeeeeee

Lydia was a survivor, though, she didn't feel like one currently. Right now she felt like she was barely hanging on.  
  
Before the bombs dropped Lydia was one of very few women who were regularly in combat. She'd spends weeks at a time in the combat zones overseas, fighting and scrounging for supplies, so when she exited that vault instinct had kicked in. She needed to get information to survive, map out the area, know the dangers and secrets, and she'd figure everything else out later when she had time.  
  
The time for figuring things out happened to be that night.  
  
Lydia was well into Boston by the time the sun started to set. As much as she knew Goodneighbor was close, her nerves were shot and she was exhausted. While sneaking her way through the city, Lydia discovered just how terrifying ferals were. With her training she was able to handle the pack she hadn't been able to sneak by, but it wasn't exactly easy, and that group had been small. She didn't want to chance stumbling upon a larger pack when she couldn't see. Instead, Lydia eased herself into a tight alleyway and pried off enough boards to slide her and her dog through the window of a sealed up building.  
  
After her companion had thoroughly investigated what ended up being a small bakery and came up with nothing, Lydia was satisfied with camping out in this location. She had bought a sleeping bag from Trudy before leaving the Drumlin Diner in case she hadn't made it to the city in time. The woman had overcharged her, no doubt because she was the reason Wolfgang had gotten his money, but it had been worth it nonetheless. She had been able to head off the inevitable meltdown a bit longer by scrounging through what was left in the building that had clearly been sealed up decades ago – uncovering some cans of dog food and a few first aid kits, but as she sank down onto her makeshift bed and lit a smoke, it came flooding.  
  
She had been a soldier on tour for many years when she had gotten her honorable discharge. She had gotten pregnant with Shaun while on leave, and she discovered it during her physical exam for deployment. It was halfway through her 3rd contract, and given all of her accomplishments, they discharged her after 10 years of service. Nate was a lawyer, a well respected, highly influential lawyer who made a lot of money. Almost overnight she was given a full civilian lifestyle with the ability to focus solely on adjusting back to normal life and caring for her child, something she was incredibly grateful for. She got to stay home, be happy, and be done with the war for good, and finally get some peace.  
  
As far as returning to normalcy, she was doing well beyond what the doctors expected of her when the bombs fell - when she ran to that vault, and then woke up in this shithole.  
  
Lydia had let all of this flood her when she made the realization she couldn't breathe. Bringing her knees to her chest and clenching fistfuls of chestnut hair, the last of the air in her lungs spilled out into sobs as she curled her face into her lap. She kept her voice down, but her body was nearly convulsing in a tiny ball, what she couldn't let out in sound came out in spasms and silent gasps for air. The dog began whining and pacing, and eventually shimmied his snout into her lap, and gently licked her freckled cheek. Lydia's body loosened a bit, but the sobs still came. He stayed there, like that with her, comforting the best way he could, occasionally vocalizing some noise of comfort or worry.  
  
Her mind had been on overdrive, internally realizing all that she had lost and the implications that had on her future. It wasn't coherent, in a way it was too devastating to put into words, but she knew the truth in her gut – this was war. This was the last decade of her life, except forever now. If she really was here, and this wasn't some sort of fucked up coma dream, there was no peaceful home on the other side of the ocean waiting for her. There were no breaks to regain sanity, or any sort of real society to be entirely sane for again, _ever._ Lydia had gotten out – and it was ripped away from her. All of this, after sitting – then laying as the companion gently eased her down – for hours, it all leaked out as a quiet, “I think I might be in hell,” before Lydia finally drifted to sleep.  


* * *

  
  
John McDonough was a coward and a nobody as far as John Hancock was concerned, and as far as Hancock was concerned, McDonough was dead. The ghoul's nimble fingers twirled an inhaler of jet in circles absentmindedly. His brow furrowed while his soft grey eyes stared off, concentrating on something that wasn't in front of him. Hancock took a hit before setting the inhaler on the desk next to him, and hummed in concentration. It was the Institute, the Commonwealth's boogeyman. The amount of kidnappings had been steadily increasing, and though Piper Wright's paper may not have been popular in Diamond City, a lot of the people in Goodneighbor found it remarkably honest, and the newest issue was quite a read.  
  
His brother, his own flesh and blood, replaced by a synth. John wasn't sure how to react, or even if he really believed it at all. If it was true, it gave him a mix of grief and relief – it meant the horrors weren't really his brother's actions, but it also meant John was fooled. It meant he lost his brother who knows how long ago, and he had no idea until someone else figured it out. But he sees his brother fairly often, if you consider their estranged relationship. They couldn't have copied him that well, the way he walked with a stick up his ass. Too. Perfect.  
  
“Hey!” Fahrenheit said as she opened the door to the State House. The bodyguard and second in command stood slightly taller then the ghoul, and she was clearly more built as well. The redhead could overpower him without much effort in an arm wrestling match, and in fact had on several occasions, much to Hancock's frustration. “Finn is bein' a piece of shit again.”  
  
“For fuck's sake...” the mayor growled, stomping his way through the doorway into the alley. Finn has been remanded several times, but has always gotten off because of the Super Mutants around the corner. Hancock didn't really want to make the defense weaker, but Finn was forcing his hand at this point. He turned the corner to see a short woman in one of those skintight vault suits and decked out in armor, and a large dog standing next to Finn. It looks as if she had started to stroll in and by the time he stopped her she had nearly passed him. The brunette hadn't even bothered to turn towards him, she faced him over her shoulder. Given the vaultsuit, Hancock's first assumption was that this girl had no idea what she was getting into, but that idea quickly faded when the ghoul reached close enough to hear.  
  
“Two god damn centuries and the faux-macho shake ups are _just_ as pathetic,” she spat at the man over her shoulder. “You're going to be the one needing some fucking insurance if you don't stay the fuck out of my face, are we clear?”  
  
Hancock smirked as Finn stepped back, “Uhhh yeahhh… we'll… we'll just say you're paid up for now...” the thug said with some serious shock in his tone.  
  
“Alright Finn, the fuck did I tell you?” The mayor said with an amused tone. The stranger shot him the most intimidating look he had seen come from a vault dweller, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. A touch more serious, he faced Finn, “Someone steps through those gates the first time, they're a guest, you cut that extortion shit.”  
  
“What'd you care? She ain't one of us,” Finn retorted, flicking out his cigarette in the mayor's direction.  
  
The ghoul licked his teeth. “No love for your mayor Finn? I said _let her go_.” Hancock couldn't decide which he wanted more, for Finn to back down, or push the ghoul over the edge to end it.  
  
“You're going soft Hancock. You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, you're not gonna be mayor for much longer,” Finn said with a predatory smile. He paced slowly over to the mayor, but he turned and shot the newcomer a pissed look when he heard her amused chuckle.  
  
“C'mon Finn, this is _me_ we're talking about,” the ghoul said, unphased by the thug's threat. Hancock had a warm, welcoming grin on his face as he wrapped his arm around Finn's shoulder. As he caught the conman in surprise, he shoved the man down into his knife. He repeated the stabbing motion twice more, and then kicked Finn's dead body over on the ground. “Why'd you have to say that man, breaking my heart over here,” the ghoul playfully mourned as he wiped his knife and slid it away. John Hancock pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, and turned to face Lydia. “Now, I know you had ole' Finn handled, but this was a bad habit of his he just didn't want to give up. Sometimes a mayor has to make a point. You alright, sister?”  
  
Lydia had watched this event unfold in curious silence, mostly because her dog didn't seem threatened or worried _at all._ She looked the mayor in the eyes for a few seconds before responding, “Yeah, yeah I'm good,” and relaxing her expression slightly, just enough to express she viewed him as less of a threat as Finn. Her dog barked happily and wagged his tail causing Lydia to let out a small chuckle. She was tired, irritable, and plagued with a pounding headache caused by the emotional turmoil she had been in the night before, but there was still some room for softness when the world allowed for it. Part of her needed it.  
  
“Good, good. Just don't let this unfortunate incident taint your view of our wonderful little community. Goodneighbor is of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone is welcome.” There was equal parts kindness and authority in this man's presence, and Lydia make a note to find out if ghoul's were even still even really considered men.  
  
“Mmhmm, I feel you.”  
  
“Good. You stay cool, and you'll come to think of Goodneighbor as a home, so long as you remember who's in charge.” Hancock said with a wink. “Let me know if you need anything, or want some work.”  
  
“Will do, boss,” Lydia replied with a lazy wave. She had already turned to walk into Daisy's (Where he dog had hapily trotted off to) before Hancock looked away, and that's when he noticed the numbers 111 on the back of her vaultsuit.  
  
“Well, that was unexpected,” Fahrenheit said as Hancock entered the alley. “I'm kinda impressed. She's got guts for a vaultie.” The bodyguard followed him back into the statehouse, and closed the door behind them.  
  
“Well, I bet it's cause she ain't from any vault around here,” Hancock said as he swiped the inhaler of jet off the desk he left it on. He took a quick hit when Fahr looked at him with confusion, “The numbers on her suit, 111.”  
  
“Never heard of that one before.”  
  
“Me either.”  
  
The two looked at each other and recognized the curiosity in each others eyes. “I'll keep an eye on her,” Fahrenheit winked.  
  
“You're a doll. Anyway, I got a speech to give.”  


* * *

  
  
Lydia stood outside of the statehouse, leaning on the wall to look up at the ghoulish mayor as he spoke. She had been in the general store – who she now knows is owned by a sweet prewar ghoul named Daisy, when he came out on the balcony calling for an audience.  
  
She watched him interact with the people on a friendly, but authoritative basis and it was so unusual and so fascinating. They trusted him, and loved him, and he was fair, and stern. It was an unexpected sight, no politicians were like this before. He spoke of a large enemy, some boogeyman called “The Institute” that everyone was so afraid of, and managed to rally the crowd and subtly threaten any “spies” that might be lurking. Lydia had no idea if this was some legitimate fear, or paranoia reminiscent of the “Red Menace” from her time, but nonetheless his leadership skills were something to be respected.  
  
At first glance anyways, Lydia was still opened minded to there being more than meets the eye.  
  
And speaking of meeting eyes, theirs did. She had been intently observing him during his speech against the Institute, and when he noticed, she didn't break eye contact. They stood there for a few seconds too long to be considered briefly, before John Hancock tipped his hat with a smirk and exited the balcony.  
  
A smile spread across the soldier's lips, and her dog cocked his head to the side and let out a curious whine. Lydia faced her friend, and pat his head affectionately, “C'mon boy, I need a beer.”


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look a birthday present to myself, another chapter!
> 
> things will be picking up a bit. i mean it when i said slow build, bahahahaha

Chapter 3  
  
“Are you _fucking kidding me?!”_ Lydia bellowed, her roar echoing in the strongroom. Silence and shocked expressions all pointed at her. “ _Why_ are we not in Diamond City _Bobbi?”_ the freckled brunette hissed through clenched teeth. This was it. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. Lydia had been channeling her grief into anger during dayhours to keep functioning. Her anger and bitterness rose like the sun and burned unforgivingly on the putrid wasteland before her, and completely vanished into the night – the only evidence left of its existence the damage it wreaked. And if the way her fair skin had rapidly changed the past two weeks, into a red darkening to bronze, speckled with an increasing amount of freckles, was any indication of the sun's destruction – Lydia was _very_ angry.  
  
“Well – Well so what? This doesn't change anything,” Bobbi defended, breaking the silence. “It's still the sa—”  
  
“ _Shut the fuck up Bobbi,”_ Lydia shouted, her fumes rising. More silence. Every single job she had taken in her time in the Commonwealth was filled with catches, and it was getting old. Fast. Granted, she had been warned about Bobbi, but Lydia figured she wasn't going to get all the info anyways and this was supposed to pay big – the one thing Bobbi was good for. But this, this, took the cake. “I've been in this god forsaken pisshole for barely two weeks,” Lydia started quietly, through clenched teeth. She slowly took a few steps forward. “And in that time, everyone has tried to trick me and fuck me over in some way – including you now,” she continued with a pissed grin. “Except for one boss, and that was Hancock.” More silence. Lydia waited, then said, “You _really_ want to keep pulling your weak shit, or are you beginning to get just exactly how _badly you fucked up?”_  
  
“Alright Bobbi,” Fahrenheit said, leaning over the balcony in John Hancock's strongroom. “You can walk your ass back into that tunnel and we'll pretend this never happened.”  
  
“Well that's a lot more generous than what I was going to offer,” Lydia said bluntly, not taking her eyes off the ghoul. She didn't notice, but Mel (the 3 rd man in their heist) was scared shitless, and Fahrenheit was a mixture of surprised and amused. The bodyguard hadn't been able to find anything about vault 111 – no one had heard of it before, but she had known the vault dweller was taking jobs at a successful rate around the city. The toughness was unexpected, but pleasant nonetheless. Lydia did notice Bobbi's eyes widen, as the soldier licked her teeth.  
  
“W-w—what! No, no!” Bobbi stuttered, her stubborn anger overriding the fear. “This isn't how this was supposed to go! I didn't come this far to run with my tail between my legs damn it!”  
  
“Oh well then,” Lydia shrugged as she grabbed her pistol, and as the ghoul reached for her rifle, Lydia let off a shot that hit the woman's hand. Bobbi growled and was still pulling the gun out when Lydia rang off two more shots, one in the shoulder, the last in the head. Simple and quick. “What a waste,” she sighed. The soldier turned merc faced Mel, and withdrew her weapon. “I think I'm done taking jobs for awhile.”  
  
Realizing his life wasn't in immediate danger, Mel swallowed, his throat dry, and spoke. “Yeah, yeah this was kind of shit.”

  
“You made the right move.” Fahrenheit was now next to them on the main level of the strongroom. The bodyguard had lit up a cigarette, and offered one to both Mel and Lydia. Mel declined, still feeling nauseous, Lydia however, _happily_ accepted.  
  
Lighting up, Lydia responded through closed lips, “Sorry to cause you trouble.”  
  
“Naw, don't worry about it. The boss'll understand, she tricked you too.”  
  
“Yeah, I just figured she was lying, just not as something as big as that. You know one of your Neighborhood Watch mentioned her to me, since he knew I was looking for work? Shit.” Lydia flicked her cigarette and scuffed the ash on the ground. “Sorry about your friend, Mel.”  
  
“Y-yeah, I'm not… exactly happy about how this turned out. I mean she probably lied to me about… that stuff I had told you about, still,” Mel trailed, his eyes making his way to Bobbi's corpse, then sharply diverting away. “I mean, it's okay though. S'not your fault.” Lydia pat his shoulder gently in sympathy, and he sharply inhaled. “I think I'm gonna get going.. I mean, as long as – that's okay.”  
  
Fahrenheit nodded, and told them both to check in with Hancock, as he would likely want to pay his respects and show some appreciation for the loyalty. Mel winced, and nodded his head, making his way into the tunnel. Lydia followed him, and when they got behind the stronghold door, she asked him what he planned to do next. “Get as far away as possible from anyone who has even heard of John Hancock or Goodneighbor,” he said with a tiredness. “I'm gonna try and fix Sonya, go on.” Lydia nodded, noted he obviously wanted to be the hell away from her as well, and made her way back.  


* * *

  
  
“I'm so not shitting you,” Fahrenheit said with a pleased chuckle. The fierce redhead was leaning against the doorway, laughing at Hancock's extremely pleased expression. “I barely had to say shit expect reveal she had been duped, and it was like a switch flipped. She was _pissed_ boss. Let me offer a way out and when No-Nose wouldn't take it she shot her down without as much as a peep from me. It was _awesome._ ”  
  
“Shit.” Hancock's expression had turned more solemn after a sudden thought. “You think I've gone tyrant? Not only are the people robbing me but people are killing at the thought of betraying me?”  
  
Fahrenheit snorted. “I think you might be overthinking it. I think she was personally insulted.” Hancock relaxed a bit, and the bodyguard laughed again. “You're so fucking conceited.”  
  
Hancock frowned. “Hey now, it WAS my strongroom. AND you said she talked about me!” he chided, his voice turning warm near the end. He was tickled, really, just… simultaneously worried and conflicted. He didn't like the idea of striking so much fear into a person they killed without hesitation. Or maybe he was just paranoid and reaching for an excuse to take a break from his “mayorial duties”. Who knew, really? The mayor pulled out a tin from breastpocket and tipped a few pills into his mouth.  
  
“She did say something funny though, you might find it interesting,” Fahrenheit said, her tone sounding a bit more serious. “Said she had been in “this god forsaken pisshole for barely two weeks.” She paused, and Hancock frowned in confusion. “Let's say I got this distinct feeling she wasn't referring to just Goodneighbor. Timing's not quite right, she's been here for bout a week and a half.”  
  
“You know, when she first showed, she said something funny as shit then too. I just remembered,” Hancock said, the mentats kicking in. “Said something about it being 200 years,” he laughed. “She was calling Finn's extortion routine just as pathetic as before, or something.”  
  
Fahrenheit's brow furrowed, and she had opened her mouth to express her confusion, when a soft knock came from the closed door. Hancock sighed, motioning to Fahrenheit to open the door.  
  
Lydia quietly stepped in the room, her canine companion happily tailing her. She wasn't sullen, but her body language was less rigid than before. She bit her lip with a grin sneaking out of the corner of her mouth, and playfully shrugged. “Heeeyyyy. Sorry 'bout that bullshit!” As soon as Hancock chuckled and waved his hand, Lydia stood up straight and softened her smile. “Seriously, though.” Given Fahrenheit's reaction and her impression of Hancock, she hadn't thought she'd be in serious trouble, and that was proven right soon enough.  
  
“Have a seat doll, have yourself some jet, get comfy!” the ghoul lazily gestured to the armchair across from the couch he was lounging on with a wink. Fahrenheit waved at that and left the room, closing the door behind her, and Lydia raised a brow.  
  
“You always this friendly with people who accidentally rob you?”  
  
“ _Almost_ accidentally rob me, you didn't finish the job.” Lydia shrugged at his response, but she did step over to the armchair and plop down. This wasn't the first time they had met since she showed up on Goodneighbor's doorstep. She had been taking jobs around town, including from his job board. Small clean up jobs closish to town. She declined any work too far from town, so no scouting, her reasoning being she was working for better equipment to take those jobs later. He had been curious, but she swiftly shut it down, offering nothing more than a shrug. Friendly, but very professional. He learned she was capable, and that was it. This meeting was a bit more relaxed, and he liked it. Lydia was interesting, a mystery he wanted to unfold, and honestly he was just _bored_. He tossed a small bag of caps in her direction with a wink, “For your loyalty.” Before she could protest he raised his hand. “You lost out on pay defending my stash when you are hard for the caps, I recognize that.”  
  
Lydia nodded a slow growing grin, and tucked the gift away. She was genuinely surprised at John's character. In a lot of ways the Commonwealth had felt familiar. Not the same, but cut from the same cloth as her previous life. Her time in the military was like another time already. The switch from being on tour and being a civilian was so different it was like a different reality, and the switch to the Commonwealth was like a mixture of the two with some new rules mixed in. Just a bit harder to adjust to. But John was _fresh,_ and _new_. Honesty and fairness in people was rare, let alone leaders. God she hadn't really interacted with a person like that since - “ _Since Nate.”_ She inhaled sharply as the thought passed through her mind, and her muscles tightened for a split-second, before the soldier in her took over again. Lydia was good at that. Compartmentalizing for later, to survive. “Well, I appreciate it. I actually used quite a bit of ammo. That tunnel was stuffed with fucking mirelurks and ferals. I _thought_ we were robbing bigots. Kinda felt like Robin Hood.”  
  
“There you go again,” Hancock hummed with an interested grin. Lydia had immediately stopped talking at the cultural slip, and he knew to move on. “I still have a favor to ask, however…”  


* * *

  
  
It seemed like a good idea at the time, really, bringing Hancock along after everything. Lydia finally had enough caps to afford basic supplies, and learning her way around Goodneighbor had helped her familiarize herself with her surroundings. She was considering hiring someone to come with her, but she wasn't keen on not having some sort of a relationship with a traveling partner in a warzone. Hancock had been on good behavior so far, and it was free.  
  
But... then the sun went down. As cold and bitter as the air was, was how small her anger was, and when anger wasn't taking up space the grief flooded, and drowned everything else. She was currently drowning – thankfully at The Third Rail, however. In Bourbon, specifically. It had hit her then, though, that she'd have to either satisfy his curiosity or figure out some way to hold it together at night too. “Fuck it.” she said simply tossing some caps on the counter. Charlie whirled on over, and paused, before she added. “I need another for the morning, for the shit hangover I'm going to have.”  
  
“Aye, fa'r enough,” Charlie said, placing another bottle on the counter and snatching up the caps. Lydia had actually made a killing with some of the scrap she picked up at the tunnel. The nickname Vaultie had started to fade, replaced with Scavver, around town, and she found she preferred it. People had stopped taking her for a weakling, just a little. If a telephone she picked up mostly out of sentimentality was worth two bottles of bourbon, who was she to complain?  
  
Hancock had been letting her stay in the attic, as a lot of the other trustworthy drifters. One of her jobs had been to clear out the warehouses of the growing gangs. With the help of a merc who stayed in The Third Rail, the job was soon finished, and Hancock reclaimed them. Ultimately he converted one in a housing unit. Since then it had been just her up there, in the attic. All of the other drifters were permanent, and she wasn't, and the Rexford was full because what kind of hotel only has one room? So she stayed in the attic, it felt more her place. When she made it back there from The Third Rail, her dog whined cheerfully and nuzzled against her, her shell softened. “You really need a name, boy,” she whispered warmly. The alcohol tingled her body and it felt calming, and numbed the grief enough to fall asleep. “Fuck it,” she whispered, petting her friend behind the ears as she curled up on the mattress, “just going with it hasn't hurt me yet.” Tomorrow was the day for figuring shit out, as it was always.

 

 


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really just write snippets, apparently. A few chapters in I'm going to go back and flesh stuff out, but I just wanted to get the intro stuff out of the way. Next chapter is more Hancock centered. :)

“C'mooonn, you gotta give me _something_ ,” Hancock pleaded with a sly grin. The ghoul twirled an inhaler of jet in his fingers while he eyed the vault dweller. Her transformation in the short time she was here was completely fascinating. When she first arrived her skin was fair, not overly so, but still palish. It clearly hadn't seen the sun in some time, which, further confirmed Hancock's “fresh face” theory. Except, given how sun kissed and freckled she was now, he wasn't so sure. It had been a full and fast change, as if her body had done it before, which wasn't likely of a vault dweller. He watched as a loud annoyed groan left her pouty lips.  
  
“I will answer one question. But nothing extremely personal – and I'll tell you if it is. You can keep asking until I answer one question. Then you drop it,” Lydia spoke, her voice thick with annoyance and hesitation. She brushed her bangs to the side and brought the bottle of bourbon to her lips, making a mental note about how she was too hungover for this shit.  
  
“Alright, deal,” he responded roughly. He would drop it… for now. “Let's see...” The ghoul leaned over on the couch to prop his elbows on his knees. Lydia's expression was nearly unreadable, but he could feel her discomfort… sadness? She wasn't making eye contact. His eyes studied her body language, trying to find something, anything to make the most of the question, but he had nothing to go on. The woman sat plainly, back straight but not rigid. Just strong. She reminded Hancock of the statues of historical figures he had seen pictures of in the State House basement, so stoic and poised. He had nothing to go on, or maybe he just kept getting distracted by that damn vault suit, so that's what he went with.  
  
“Why have I never heard of Vault 111?” Hancock asked slowly after some silence. He watched her facial expression carefully – relief and surprise, then confusion. She didn't understand the context, and she didn't need to ask, as Hancock continued. “S'on the back of your suit, Sunshine. We know about 81 and 101 and a few others, but nobody has heard of 111. So why not?”  
  
Lydia hummed in understanding and gave a soft nod. She took a swig from the bottle in her hands, a touch too long just to stall. “I suppose, that... would be because I am the only one,” she said quietly, this time making eye contact with the ghoul. “Everyone else is dead. I'm the sole survivor.”  
  
It left him with more questions, but also more understanding of this strange woman. The ghoul's expression softened, and he gave a nod. He had been looking up at her from his contemplative position while she was perched on the seat across him, and he slowly reached out to place a hand on her knee. Giving a gentle squeeze, he said, “I'm sorry, that's shit,” and then rose from his seat. Hancock walked over to the window and peered out while he grabbed the tin sitting on the sill, and gave Lydia a chance to compose herself. “Mentats?” he offered the tin with a grin.  
  
Lydia smiled warmly but shook her head, “I don't like mixing drugs when I'm hungover. Offer again in a few hours,” she winked. Lydia was grateful for Hancock's quick change of the subject, and even more relieved that the little answer had satisfied his curiosity for now. After Simone and Wolfgang, she hadn't told anyone, well, _anything_. Being unique meant standing out, and that was counterintuative for survival.  
  
“So, doll, where to?”  
  
“We need to make a stop at The Memory Den, I'm curious about something.”

* * *

 

Hancock was thoroughly entertained, he hadn't even needed Jet. He had noticed a softness in Lydia when she had said she heard The Silver Shroud station the night prior, and she wanted to talk to Kent for awhile. She offered to have Hancock do whatever and she'd pick him up when she was going to leave now, but he had just grinned and told her he was officially on vacation. He wasn't going to miss this, now that he had an in. The mayor liked the mystery, and the puzzle of her. She seemed so out of place, but she still handled the world fine, and that's what sparked his interest.  
  
They were sitting in the Memory Den when it slipped. As soon as it came out of her mouth she knew it was a mistake, instantly feeling the stare the mayor gave her. Confusion spread across Kent's face, “You listened to every new episode when they aired? How? The last broadcast was hundred's of years ago.” It had come out because she genuinely _loved_ that stupid hero show, Nate would tease her incessantly. A 30 year old seasoned soldier who avidly followed a children's radio show, it was ridiculous. In the middle of beating herself up for letting it slip, she did congratulate herself on not bursting into tears just thinking about Nate, or Shaun, despite the lump in her throat.  
  
Lydia inhaled deeply, then breathed, “About that… guess you get another answer Hancock” She stared at her feet and kicked some dirt around, before continuing,”I… I was in cryogenic storage for a long time. I only recently woke up.” She barely had finished speaking when Kent grew excited, thankfully not giving Hancock any room to speak because his first thought was to call bullshit.  
  
“Oh man, that's amazing! You're just like Mister Abominable from Episode 83,” the pre-war ghoul beamed up at her.  
  
“Wait, wait a minute, wasn't he a _cave man?”_ she scoffed playfully, her nervousness melting away at the thought of her favorite comic character. As their childish banter continued, Hancock's skepticism began to evaporate. Not entirely, but enough to keep quiet for now. She was either an extremely convincing conwoman, or one of the most badass people to ever come from a vault. He was further surprised when she agreed cheerfully to fetch the costume for the guy without so much as a subtle hint towards payment. She seemed so at ease then, talking to Kent about the past. Hancock wondered if that was how she was meant to be, how she was before she was supposedly frozen all those years ago, before she woke up in this hellhole trying to survive and cope at the same time. As far fetched as the idea was, if it was true, it made a lot of her make sense, and all of it amazed him.  
  
When they exited The Memory Den, Hancock cleared his throat, and Lydia immediately snapped around to face him, her expression hardened. She was warning him. “Not that, sister,” Hancock said gently in a low rumble. When her expression softened, he continued. “You didn't even ask about caps back there, I'm kinda surprised.”  
  
“You can stay here, if that's what you want.”  
  
“No, no. Jus' tryin' to figure you out s'all.”  
  
“It sounded like fun,” Lydia shrugged. “Plus, if the costume is still there I'm sure other shit is too,” her smile crooked. “ Plus... after yesterday I need a break from having a boss.” A smiled crawled across Hancock's face as he gazed down at her. They were still standing in the street, chatting, nearly blending in with the citizens around them. He had a good foot on her in height, if not more, and he was fond. Stepping forward, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and walked her towards Daisy's.  
  
“You're _definitely_ my kind of trouble.”  


* * *

  
  
  
The duo's trip to Hubris Comics was rather uneventful. A few raiders, since they took the long way around the super mutants, but nothing they couldn't handle. It was a good first trip – they hadn't spoken given they were in the city, but they soon fell into a groove all the same. Lydia held her sniper rifle like she was born with it, and Hancock charged in with his shotgun. Lydia would fire, and Hancock would distract while she changed position, and would shoot again. Rinse, repeat. They walked side by side down the street, her rifle holstered on her back and Hancock's gun resting over his shoulder until they made it to the shop.  
  
Lydia crept up to the doorway and signaled for Hancock to follow her. The ghoul raised his brow, but obeyed. He hadn't expected her to take so much charge, but he was kind of enjoying it. She was definitely capable, if you don't die taking jobs that much is obvious, but he hadn't expected her to be so _professional_. She started to enter the door when he heard it, and he quickly griped her shoulder to stop her. Lydia froze, then turned her head to face him questioningly, and cursed to herself when she saw him mouth _“Ferals.”_ He didn't hesitate when he saw her body stiffen, and gestured for her to back up further from the door.  
  
“I'll go first this time,” he rasped, leaning closely into Lydia's ear. She was covered in as much sweat and grime as any other wastelander, but under the salt she smelled sweet, and tangy, and warm. He pulled a molotov cocktail out from his pack and stalked forward, and Lydia returned his sinister smile with one of her own.  
  
“After you.”  
  
This time she watched him. She watched him swiftly light the homemade grenade and toss it into the building in one fluid motion. Without missing a beat he pounced into the building, eyes darting quickly. He moved like a beast, tearing down his enemies with bullets instead of claws. He was overbearing and nothing like she had seen, but still efficient. Two shots, in different directions, and then an immediate reload. Lydia followed suit, crouched down a few steps behind him in the shadows. Her eyes widened at the sheer number of them before she rolled behind the counter and pointed her rifle over the surface. She pulled an inhaler out of her pocket and took a long deep breath before she focused on the clusters coming through the ceiling.  
  
Hancock grinned as he heard four shots in quick succession before a few feral bodies fell from the ceiling. The two did this dance – him picking them off as they got closer and Lydia doing population control, until they reached the top floor. Her smile was dorky and her voice squealed in excitement, “I can't believe it's actually still here!” Hancock tilted his head and popped another mentat in his mouth, while he watched her bounce in joy. “It's like, nearly _perfect_ too, Kent is gonna freak!” She marveled at the collectable and how well made it was, temporarily oblivious to the ghoul's curious gaze. It didn't take long for her to notice the silence and his quirky smile looking in her direction. She softened and the smile faded just a bit. “Alright, Hancock. You can have another question.”  
  
John was silent for a few seconds more as he took the sight in. The woman held perfectly still while waiting for him to speak and never broke her gaze, but her small, calloused hands gripped the shroud costume like a lifeline, turning her knuckles white. He had serious doubts as to the validity of her story, but watching her react to the items and pictures in the comic shop was surreal. She fought those ferals like she had known how her whole life, but looking at the posters, reading through the computer logs, and excitedly vocalizing random tidbits about the stars of the radio show was the first time she hadn't seemed so damned lost. His doubts weren't so serious anymore. He kicked himself up off the wall and walked towards her, before softly asking, “You weren't bullshitting, earlier. Were you? Kinda thought you were back at the Memory Den, but shit…” Hancock sighed and gave a sympathetic look as Lydia looked down at the costume.  
  
“No, I wasn't bullshitting,” Lydia said simply. She sighed and folded the costume before putting it in her pack. “It's… bizarre. Being in a place like this. I feel nostalgic but that's crazy because I heard a new episode last month.”  
  
Hancock's eyes widened. “Shit, I hadn't even thought of it like that. It's like you just -”  
  
“-- Blinked? Yeah. I closed my eyes and opened them a second later and...” Lydia trailed off, thinking of Nate and Shaun. She bit her lip and clenched her fists. Her breathing spasmed as she inhaled, and finished, “It's disorientating. I have no concept of how much time has passed except for visual cues.” The ghoul nodded as he pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Lydia's lips, and a small curve slipped through at the corner of her mouth. “I haven't much of anyone, but no one else doubted it, why did you? I mean, I would doubt it, but I'm from a different time.”  
  
“Honestly, because you're a really good shot,” Hancock chuckled as he lit their smokes, and Lydia rolled her eyes. “C'mon now, I just mean – You're really good. You're not some raider. You… “ the ghoul's voice trailed off into a frustrated rumble, and Lydia's expression slowly drained of annoyance. He stumbled with the words in his head to not sound so damn poetic. “You seem... trained. Which is extremely unusual.”  
  
“Ohhh, that,” Lydia laughed quietly, smoke breathing out as she spoke. Her smile was genuine and her plump lips blushed when laughed, and Hancock _really_ enjoyed that mentats made him so observant. “That makes sense, Wolfgang and Simone knew.” She paused for another hit before explaining, ”I was a soldier before the war. I had been retired for a year, but I was in the field for 10 years before that. It's like instinct at this point. War never changes.” John Hancock hummed in firm agreement before he wrapped his arm around Lydia's strong shoulders in a friendly gesture to exit the comic shop.  
  
“C'mon, we have enough daylight left to get this back to Kenny boy, I know you're excited,” he teased with a wink and the best of intentions.  
  
“You'd understand if you were a _real_ fan, ok?”

“Nerd.”  
  
“Says the ghoul who lives in a costume.”  
  
“Hmph,” he turned away with fake indignation and Lydia snorted. The act didn't last long as they exited the building, walking back to Goodneighbor in alert silence. While they retraced their steps Lydia pondered more, and more, about her life and whatever the hell she was supposed to be doing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in a decade so uh, don't be rude. D:
> 
> Constructive criticism welcome though <3


End file.
